


Welcome Home| Dream SMP Oneshots

by DragoonHooman



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AAAaAAaaaaAAAaAaA, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dream Team SMP Roleplay (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff, Gen, helpIdon'thavemanytags, noswearing, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:33:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragoonHooman/pseuds/DragoonHooman
Summary: It was a place that felt like you belonged.It was a place they never wanted to leave.It was a place of trials and love, hate and redemption, a place of war and peace.But most of all, it was a place they called their own. It was a place with land and sea, where things were always meant to be.Most of all, it was a place where they'd see open arms and a warm greeting."Welcome Home."
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Welcome Home| Dream SMP Oneshots

The pitter-patter of rain landed on the ground, droplets falling on the treetops and falling onto rocks carved into a makeshift road. Gray clouds drifted across the night sky blocking out the stars that lit up the atmosphere. 

All the animals seemed to have disappeared as if something was scaring them to the point of no end. It wasn’t from the rain. It wasn’t from the clouds rumbling in controlled anger, no.

It was from a small figure shivering as it followed the pathway and had no cover from the rain, getting doused with water every second. A hoofprint made itself onto the muddy ground creating a loud squelch. It looked weak and easy to pick off from a distance but every time a creature approached it, no matter the size, the creature gave a glare stronger than thunder. Not even the monsters that populated the land wished to approach it, not out of terror, but because the beasts could feel a sense of familiarity among the creature. As if the figure was no different than them -- an equal. 

The creature was clothed in a leather tunic that reached his knees, while a golden earring dangled from its left ear. That wasn’t the strangest part though for the figure looked like some sort of anthropomorphic pig standing on its own two legs and had an expression of something more than just an animal’s. It seemed… human.

The creatures of this world couldn’t recognize it except for the tall, black creatures and skeletal archers who looked at it with a confused expression. They said it was a piglin but what would a piglin be doing in their world and how was it still alive? 

The piglin was just as confused. He was always warned to never go into the glowing obsidian box and that if he did, he might as well be disowned by his kind. Then a wither skeleton approached his group. His superiors began to draw their golden swords and loaded crossbows grunting protectively. The young piglin hid behind them desperately wanting to fight but without a weapon, he might as well have a death wish. 

The blackened skeleton stabbed one of his comrades with its stone sword, piercing his thigh. The entry wound soon became an inky black and his friend began to cough up black bubbles growing weaker by the second. He soon collapsed in front of the small piglin which was lying dead on the netherack. 

One wither skeleton eyed the piglin with a murderous glint in its eyes. He squealed and started to run hearing the clickity-clack of bones behind him. He tried his hardest to ignore the pained and dying squeals of his family and friends but it only made him feel worse. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t look where he was going and bumped into an older piglin, pushing them both into the obsidian doorway. For a while, all he could see was purple and all he could hear was a loud hum. 

He crashed onto something soft and oddly colored. It was similar to the color of the blue leaves in the Warped Forest and the color of the yellow shroomlights. Then he felt something… strange. It felt cold like the Soul Sand Valleys but it felt liquid. It was gross and the piglin didn’t like it.

Was this water and grass? He wondered. The endermen would tell him about the world outside of his home. About a world filled with peaceful creatures and so many colors and a world as barren as the nether where a powerful entity ruled the islands.

The piglin hugged his chest, shivering from the cold and the wet water falling from the sky. He wondered what his family meant when this world was dangerous.

Then he saw the older piglin shudder and shake violently, grunting in pain and confusion. He watched, terrified, as the older piglin’s skin turn more dead and rotten. Their eyes turned a milky white and their skin started to peel apart and reveal dying muscle and bone. 

He yelped in shock, as the older piglin became one of the many undead creatures that roamed his world and that creature now blocked his only way home. The zombified piglin turned to him with unblinking eyes, ones that showed absolutely zero emotion. He stood up shakily and began to run.

As he ran further into the unknown and farther from home, the piglin tried to ignore all the worries that blossomed inside him. Why hasn’t that happened to him yet? When would it happen? Why was his head aching so much?

The mobs gave him no form of help, he knew that even though he was one of them, they believed that to grow, one must do it on their own. He passed by villages whose inhabitants wanted nothing to do with him. They grunted in disgusted tones as he passed by while their iron guardians glared at the piglin. 

Then he saw tiny floating lights, each shining in a different color and seemed to lead him somewhere. The sparkling lights entranced him, and as he followed the lights, more appeared to greet him. 

They led him to a small and quaint house encircled by trees. Several small farms surrounded the eastern side of the house ranging from tall, golden, blades of grass to small, orange-colored carrots, to green stems with several big leaves. 

The piglin felt his stomach rumble and went towards the leafy stems. A basket lay open beside the crops, where a pile of round, brown things rested. They looked edible, he picked up the brown thing and took a small bite. It tasted sweet, a flavor he never tasted that often, one that was similar to the golden carrots he’d only get on birthdays. He quickly took more bites, savoring the plant’s taste.

Wanting more, the piglin grabbed another piece, this time a little too quickly. He accidentally fell back into a barrel which in turn tumbled over and spilled more of the brown crop. It made a loud crashing noise, and he could now hear rushed footsteps from the house. 

The door creaked open and the piglin was greeted by a tall man with black wings large enough to engulf him and the brown plants with space to spare. The man’s face was illuminated by the lantern he held, showing an expression that constantly shifted from confused, to tired and back. He seemed to not want to kill the piglin, but that didn’t let his terror fall. The winged man looked incredibly intimidating and could crush him in a second.

The piglin picked up a fallen branch, holding it like a sword at the man. Although still too young to wield a weapon daily, he was taught the basics of sword and axe-wielding. The man let out a light laugh as he looked at him curiously. 

“It’s okay,” He said in English. His words were said in a funny accent, and the piglin wondered if that was what English sounded like to other creatures. He would see books in the bastions written in that language and slowly but surely, he learned the language, bits, and pieces but he could understand it easily. Yet he never knew that it could be spoken. The words sounded calming and he slowly looked up at the tall man, now kneeling in front of him with kind eyes and golden hair.

**Gold.**

Instinctively, the piglin leapt up and clung onto the man’s shoulders to feel the golden locks. The man made an indistinct noise of pain, it sounded foul and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Sorry,” the man apologized before settling him down on the ground. He held out his arms to try and reach the man’s hair again, making determined grunting noises.

“I wonder what you’re doing here little not-dead piglin.” The winged man said, standing up. He stood up too, now following the man to his house, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort. This place slowly felt like his new home, as he slowly realized that his kind wouldn’t like him anymore if he went back. 

“You want to come with me?” The man asked. The piglin nodded, tugging on the man’s robes. “Okay,” He said, laughing softly and patting the piglin’s head. 

They passed a sign which read “Philza Minecraft.” “That’s me,” Philza said, opening the door. 

The inside of the house looked just as calming as the outside did, a warm fireplace crackling and burning, a plate of golden-brown round things on a table. Bookshelves that contained so many books of titles he couldn’t recognize. One book lay half-open on top of a couch and as they approached to sit on it, he could see that the title was “The Art Of War”.

Philza gave the piglin a piece of the food, and he gratefully took a bite. It was sweet like the brown plant but had a warmth and buttery aftertaste the brown plant could never achieve. He finished the meal in a heartbeat, his ears flapping in glee. “What’s your name bud?” Philza asked.

He looked at the books behind him and pulled two down. Covering the “logy” in “Technology” with one hoof and the “Art of the” in “Blade” with the other. He looked up at Philza, grinning.

“Technoblade.” Philza read. “Nice name,” he leaned back against the couch. “I’ll call you Techno for short, is that okay?”

Technoblade nodded, leaning against Philza and letting himself be engulfed by his feathery wings. The older opened the unfinished book and started to read out loud the opening lines. Techno closed his eyes and listened to Philza as he drifted off into sleep.

When Philza looked back at the piglin, he was surprised to see him morph in looks, pink skin turning a pale white and pink hair on his head, becoming more human as he drifted more into sleep. “Huh,” he muttered. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a hybrid here.”

Techno couldn’t understand his words but he didn’t really mind as a small voice began to say something in his head.

  
“Dadza has been  **_Found!_ ** _ ”  _


End file.
